When people are allowed to pretend
they are never
truly
free

The sound
of a bus
is the chorus
of a man
or the woman
driving it
and the terrible rhythm
dragging us
to
and fro

it has has a name
it has a pyramid
effect
on us all

blue
remaining
architecture

noisy
over-whelming
flame.

Systems mix awake
like pills awaiting a passenger
searching for dogma
like a marching drill in the dessert
disturbing dunes
like a bullet distracting the crowd
shattering the skull behind you
muttering
and chattering again
in the world below its knees
where it connects again
sewn and hammered
accept oil
this time
golden
drapped in molasses
tuned at the heart
and joint
to continue
to have spirit and commune
with its line
and nothing

but its line.

The clams boiled back
and shut their eyes
when the water came
and finally swam away
giving one moment
many.

Letter headed grains of cement flow up
like reversed particles of snow sick of flowing down
changing back through the air
dancing through change like a gift and drift
raising us all, salt watered skin and all, seeping skin
and other numbers of bone like it
count the days no more
dancing back the in the waves of binary and soil
back to the starting arena once more
unaware of the birds that join
old neighbours within this world
acidic tongues biting the cheeks of day
lap at them now
forgetting the steps
and remembering how they join
in rhythm with the words of hell and grace, inking them
marking them
with gestures of spectrum and instinct
of flight over the greys of practice and time
which soar all the same
more sleet flows down now
intricate waves of flight collide against skin
as you separate and centre
held by the substance of your eye
grounded by root
like the sense you have to run
to the flood in the sky
where we are comfortable and coded
walking in metronome
painted by the herds of many
but formed by one
and fed by much.

The ideas we love unattended end up flowing down the drain
like excess soap
nothing gets washed and the unwashed shadow
on a shed wall lets a family of climbing vines make its home
on it and
inside it
nothing is tendered or cut in June
some hands come in May that are skilled enough
to paint around the edges without poisoning the plant
ball games give life to the court yard where the dog sleeps
and it stays alive
as long as the vines
are cut in this way.

Strange. The beginning of this city
is the same;
the personality
of your smell
is my flat
it grows out
across my sheets
back in
and i pay
with the few minutes i’ll need to
when I’m late
later

the sun likes my blinds
and your sleeping back
as i wake
easier
for work

looking up, I blink
and count the scabs I see in the sky
and the shouts from annoyed cabbies
and the cuts in my chin

from shaving
smile,
they leak open
and drip down
into the basin
each one pulls down the time
i’m late
but dress casually
all the same
it’s worth while
this
disorder
this
mixing
as I choose
as I fold my tie
watching you sleep
as i dress
and experience
a new laughing
a.m.

making my work day
an agile song

just,
a man
smiling at a streets raven
through a kitchen window
making breakfast
fixed
with
linking steps
that were loose
as we danced home
last night

i learn to do such things
at my desk
preferring to think
of our feet
twelve hours before

yours – in those shoes i love
mine – clumsy
up the stairs
screaming about something i cannit

remember
back to
flat number seven
seven ***** machine guns
seven
taps
on 'enter' now
sending this email
making me laugh
the peach lifts up through the city
and the power
to tell one person
that i’ll see you soon
is more
than enough gas
to find my keys

just enough
to crawl up my blocks stairs
and relax on my back with you
welcoming
disorder
forgetting my boss
watching
the rest of the morning rise up
from the landscape
whilst you sleep in

i laugh under my breathe
keeping it to myself
letting the rest of the day
rise up
beginning
itself.

i liked the way that mongrel smiled
he had no idea how ugly he was
i pulled in a good deep drag
putting sharp teeth in my lungs
he drooled
it was warm
i was warm
i would drool too if it was just him and i
which it is
i stand and smoke with him a while
he doesn’t smoke
he’s a dog
enjoying the summer
with reason enough
in his panting mind
for a summer ball
and all the hunger
to be released in a perfect sway
in his mogrel ***
from left to right.

Schizophrenia is a beautiful word
it makes good use of the mouth
and admires the tongue’s fragility

to curl
to arch
and play
as you say it

by rights
we already have a new King
and the Queen’s been renamed
after each part of the word

-Schi- is today’s smell
she’s tall
she’s worked all week
in a pristine office
and earned the right to sweat as she likes
in her own home
by her own rules

-Zo- is the breeding pattern of dogs and love

-Phrenia- never knows – anything
unless she dances with him like a cure
she has a perfect way of swaying
when snowed, so deeply under
that she gives the streets
back their grace

she undresses the evening
collapsing the day
in perfect comedy
and dialogue
with the ceiling’s sky

where only the feral
have ever lived

where only they
have ever moved.

i’m always glad
when a joke comes along
it’s all the casinos and things i am
and ever been lost in
i was bored
and no boredom kills you like lust does
it’s red when you bet red
all the time
and you’ll be alone
between periods of manic payout and disbelief
if you don’t leave
and slap the croupier on the ***
and ask them to join.

Your body
enduring height
altitude
gaseous tastes
and work

pushing you
through the thin walls
remembering the intricacies that the day has forgotten
your feet begin to arc up
backwards
as you drift up and through the outer layers

body breaks down shadow
surrounds space

and paycheques
with fresh peace
and air
heavy light – multiplies

and a room
much like yours
shares out your mind
between the night’s humour
and the day’s teeth
devouring their shares
with a coffee
between a shave
and a shower

the morning, easing
‘cos you’re with me
in the steam
letting no one else tell me how it is
‘cos it probably isn’t
anything like that

it’s probably more
like you

like this winter
that i will to end
so i can come home
to the city i found
out of chance
and see you

again.